Authors: D. H. Cameron
“Then I’ll order some to go.
You might get hungry later. It’s going to be a long night,” James said and I immediately bristled again. He just couldn’t stop with the suggestive comments.
“Look, I’m not going to…,” I began to tell him before he interrupted.
“Hey, settle down. You’re coming to my house. You’re my agent whether you want to be or not. You better get to know me and Battery’s music. You can’t very well represent us if you can’t even recognize our music when you hear it. Besides, I think you’ll come to like it,” he clarified. He was right, damn him.
“Sorry,” I said on the defensive again.
“You’re not going to make me listen to your albums, are you?” I asked. James had me on edge almost constantly. If he wasn’t making me wet just being himself, he was hitting on me or bringing out my temper. Then he’d say something reasonable and I’d feel bad for getting angry. Then I was all hot and bothered again.
“All night, little girl,” he said calling me by his pet name.
I wanted to find that demeaning and I promise you, I tried, but it was growing on me. I let it pass. James was being James and my job wasn’t to babysit him or turn him into a gentleman. I was his agent.
“Great,” I replied not disguising my displeasure a
t the prospect of listening to Battery’s brand of noise all night. James laughed and looked as if he knew something I didn’t. We left his steakhouse and repeated the greetings but in reverse. Monica handed James a plastic bag, the cheesecake I assumed. Everyone had hugs and goodbyes for James and included me as if I was part of the family. James handed the valet another hundred for having his pickup already waiting. James let the valet help me in and I was annoyed at myself for being disappointed James hadn’t assisted me.
I found the whole restaurant experience rather confusing.
James wasn’t a complete jerk, but he could be rather abrasive and rude at times. Nevertheless, everyone at his steakhouse seemed to love him. He seemed to have a lot to affection for them too. Again, I saw a side of James I didn’t expect, completely the opposite from the man that swore I’d be begging to have sex with him. When I thought about his softer side, I almost believed that I might.
We drove west to the coast and then along the ocean on Highway 1 into Malibu.
James pulled up to a gated house along the ocean and the iron gate opened for him. Inside the tall exterior walls beyond the gate was a Spanish style house with a red tile roof. Okay, it was a mansion. Not the rock star haven I might have imagined, but a lovely, well maintained and landscaped yard surrounding a rather large two-story house that could have easily been home to a well-to-do family. I’m not sure what I expected, but this wasn’t it.
We pulled up to the front of the house on a large covered driveway. Wow!
I’d never been in a house like this and I wondered what I’d find inside despite the well-maintained exterior. I half expected a huge man cave filled with tacky furnishings, posters featuring bikini clad woman and empty pizza boxes. I couldn’t have been more wrong. James’ house was as beautiful inside as it was outside. Rich wood, marble floors, soaring ceilings and a wall of windows overlooking a beautiful pool and the Pacific Ocean. I immediately went to the windows, drawn to the amazing view. I looked out over the water and then at James, finding the home and the man incompatible.
“It’s beautiful,” I said.
Nothing in the house spoke of the abrasive rock star that lived here.
“Thanks.
You look surprised,” he said as he offered me a bottle of water he had retrieved after putting the cheesecake away.
“I guess I am.
This isn’t what I expected,” I admitted.
“Come with me,” James said and his hand found the small of my back again as he lead me away from the windows.
I allowed him to do it, mostly because my temper had been quenched by the meal and the beautiful view. However, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t like it when James touched me like that.
We approached a set of French doors
at end of the expansive living room and as James opened them, I saw the man cave I expected but it wasn’t tacky or unkempt. The room was all James Turner. It screamed rock star but in a classy sort of way. Guitars hung on one wall and a collection of amps sat below them. A sofa and ornate table anchored the wall opposite the guitars and against the far wall was a large, oak desk and leather chair in front of another bank of windows. Concert photos and platinum albums hung everywhere. Memorabilia sat on selves, mostly music related.
“
This is home,” was all he said and offered me a seat as he went to the sofa. I followed but something caught my attention. A poem, handwritten on a cocktail napkin, hung framed on the wall. I stopped to read it.
She awaits in my mind, a vision, a goddess, a haze.
I am no good, not worthy of her but nevertheless I crave.
She looks upon me and lays me bare with her fiery gaze.
I am powerless before her, a broken, willing slave
.
~6~
“What’s this?” I asked. The poem was beautiful if not a little dark.
“That’s James Turner 101, little girl,” he said and then picked up a remote and music came from unseen speakers.
James sorted through songs I didn’t recognize until he found the one he wanted. He motioned for me to join him. “Take off your shoes and get comfy,” he told me. I did, seeing no harm in it. As I sat, a soulful song slowly built in volume and filled the room. Two guitars sang in harmony, one laying down a steady beat, the other rising and falling in tone. I felt something, emotion, sadness, longing. Then James’ voice joined the guitars over the hidden speakers and the man next to me whispered, “Listen.”
I did and I heard a story of a man who longed for a woman. The story, as well as the music became more and more intense until I heard the words I’d read on the wall.
I looked at James as his recorded voice filled the room, filled with an angst and pain that I could feel to my core. I wanted to cry as the lead guitar wailed as if feeling the same sadness I did. As the guitar solo ended, the story continued. The woman those words referred to was dead and gone and the man in the song took his own life to find her somewhere beyond. The lead guitar wept again as the other, James’ guitar, pounded out a relentless beat that slowly died away as if it was the man’s heart slowing and finally ceasing to beat as he died.
I looked at James and found him staring at me already.
I felt a tear run down my cheek. “Did you write that?” I asked.
“I did. Those lines came to me one night as I drank myself into a stupor. Sylvia, my ex, had left me and I had nothing.
I mean I had it all, but I had nothing worthwhile. I’m the man in that song,” he said. I looked at him, my face grave.
“You didn’t…,” I asked not wanting to finish my thought thinking the worst.
“No, it’s a metaphor. I felt like I wanted to die but that night the old James did die in a way. I went in search of that dream,” he explained without really explaining anything.
“You quit drinking?” I asked.
“Yeah, I’d lost everything important to me. I was rich, famous and adored but none of it brought me any joy or satisfaction any longer. I decided to change things and I wrote the rest of that song in rehab. I left the drinking behind and went in search of something more,” he clarified. Why did I suddenly feel like I was the woman in that song even though that wasn’t possible? Maybe it was the desire in James’ eyes or the way the song tugged at my heart. I wanted to soothe his pain and make it all better suddenly but James found another song and it shattered the feeling.
“Enough of that,” he said as a loud, rowdy song filled the room.
At first, it sounded like a jumble of notes with no real pattern. However, as I listened, really listened, a pattern emerged from the cacophony. James’ voice roared as he sang, angry and intense and I began to discern the words. It wasn’t just random yelling as I’d assumed. Instead, I heard another story, a dark and frightening tale, but a story nonetheless. The lead and rhythm guitars spoke too, each in their own way adding layers to the story. I felt the anger within me as I listened and in a way, it was a release. As the song ended, I was breathing hard and clenching my fists but I felt cleansed somehow.
“I’ve never listened to this kind of music before.
It’s not just noise, is it?” I asked already knowing the answer.
“No
pe. You’re learning, little girl. Did you feel it?” he asked and I knew what he meant.
“Yes.
It made me angry but it was liberating somehow, cleansing,” I admitted.
“Exactly.
You think it feels good hearing it you should try singing it. It keeps me sane,” James told me. I was as amazed at the music as I was the man. He, like the music, was so much more than I thought. He wasn’t just a rock star. James was intelligent, thoughtful and emotive. However, he was still brash and rough around the edges. James was a series of contradictions and I found myself freely wanting him suddenly.
I wasn’t ready to beg him as he suggested, but I saw past his persona and found the real James Turner and I liked what I saw, much to my surprise.
James was soulful, kind-hearted man that lived life on his terms. Maybe it was the music and the emotions it spawned, but rational thought was nowhere to be found. My baser needs ruled. I wasn’t sure how to proceed, inexperienced at this kind of thing, but James seemed to sense the change in me. He moved closer, mere inches from me, and stared into my eyes. I could feel his warmth through the space between us and the anticipation was palpable.
Suddenly, James roughly pushed me onto my back, my head coming to rest on the soft arm of the sofa. I gasped as his lips came close to mine
, stopping short as I nearly hyperventilated. My pussy swelled and warmed in my panties, aching for James as he stared into my eyes. Then he took me. His lips found mine and his tongue invaded my mouth exploring me. I let my tongue dance with his as James cupped my breast, growling as he ravished me. I moaned and closed my eyes, letting the moment wash over me. This was nothing like that boy in high school or those timid guys in college.
James pushed my thighs apart with his strong, calloused hands.
His hips thrust at me and I could feel his cock straining to escape his jeans. My skirt slipped up my thighs and my panties were no match for the rough denim of his blue jeans. I could feel the rough fabric through the thin satin of my dainty undies as his jeans rubbed against my swollen mound. James broke the kiss as he tugged my blouse from my skirt and pushed it over my breasts. My bra followed and soon my breasts were exposed and James bent to take a nipple between his lips, his beard tickling me.
I was in no mood to giggle, however, instead wrapping my legs around James as I whispered, “Oh my God!”
James looked up with his crooked smile and then took my other nipple in his mouth. I squealed as he bit softly and his hips slammed into my pussy, the ridge of his hard cock under his denim driving me wild. I wanted him to fuck me. I needed him to fuck me just as he promised, hard and fast with his music blaring throughout. I’d never felt anything so desperate and intense and I wanted it all. Still, I could not bring myself to beg.
“James?” was all I managed as he kissed his way down my torso and then he slipped to the floor, his head between my thighs.
My panties were a mere annoyance that James made quick work of, tossing them over his shoulder after he tugged them down my legs. My skirt was next and soon it joined my panties. I stared at James, desperate for his touch and he didn’t withhold. A finger traced around my glistening sex as I moaned and panted. James spread me open and growled deeply before looking up at me and saying, “Fucking beautiful.”
James barely let me hear his words before his mouth found my pussy and his tongue swept up th
rough my velvet folds and his goatee tickled my inner thighs just like in my torrid fantasy. I cried out, took his head in my hands and pulled him in closer as my legs draped over his shoulders. I was beyond excited and soon I was riding the edge of something I hadn’t felt in a long time, if ever. Not like this. I tensed and moments later, James’ tongue found my engorged clit and a finger slipped into my hot, wet pussy.
I screamed aloud as an orgasm, an honest
-to-goodness-no-doubt-about-it orgasm, stole my breath and sent jolts of electricity throughout my body. The pounding heavy metal only added to the potent feeling. James’ fingers found that special place that only I had managed to discover up to this point in my life and I arched towards him as another delicious climax rolled over me. I screamed and writhed as James sucked hard on my clit and fucked my pussy with his calloused and dexterous fingers.
Before I could recover, another orgasm took me
and I could barely scream as my breath caught in my chest. Suddenly, James was on top of me again, his lips finding mine. I could taste myself on him as his beard tickled my neck and I found my own taste rather arousing in the moment. His tongue slowly played with mine as I recovered, one of his strong hands playing in my hair, the other stroking my cheek. I wanted more and I broke the kiss to say so, but James pressed a finger to my lips before I could say anything.
“Not tonight, Simone.
That was just a taste but I don’t want you like this,” James whispered.